The Melancholy of Moving Back to the Desert

desert

 

 

 

 

 

A grown man shouldn’t need to return
to the land of his childhood

tummy-showing and barefoot.

You should live where mountains and water
compliment your dual ascendant, the one

reaching for high mountain lakes; the other
the depth of ocean.

My patio fountain in the Sonoran Desert,
like a mockingbird, its trickling water incessant—

a waterboard.

The best change comes slowly
like summer, when Sun forces burnt skin

into action.

Even flies know when to leave.

I’ll wait to see if my wife packs for two.

 

 

 

First published in Zócalo Public Square

 

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